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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098230">GoFundMe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirsparklepants/pseuds/sirsparklepants'>sirsparklepants</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gig Economy AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Frenemies, Illnesses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:08:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirsparklepants/pseuds/sirsparklepants</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yennefer of Vengerburg was Jaskier's mortal enemy. Valdo Marx was a bug under his shoe in comparison. A charlatan! A pretender! A mere crow to Jaskier's dulcet tones. Speak not to Jaskier of Valdo Marx. He was beneath notice. But Yennefer of Vengerburg, oh, that pretentious fuck!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, ish - Relationship, pre-OT3 - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gig Economy AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>GoFundMe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Imported from tumblr.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Yennefer of Vengerburg was Jaskier's mortal enemy. Valdo Marx was a bug under his shoe in comparison. A charlatan! A pretender! A mere crow to Jaskier's dulcet tones. Speak not to Jaskier of Valdo Marx. He was beneath notice. But Yennefer of Vengerburg, oh, that pretentious fuck! Who used toponyms in this day and age? Oh, she could claim it was for privacy all she wanted, but her four hundred thousand Instagram followers put paid to that. And she'd had the nerve, the unmitigated gall, to DM him and tell him that she liked his music after he remixed some of her videos into a frankly delightfully insulting song. Jaskier hated her with a burning passion. Which made it quite unfortunate that they were heading right for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The paramedic Geralt knew in Rinde hadn’t been able to help Jaskier, of course - suppurating, pus-filled sores in the back of one’s throat weren’t the kind of thing handled by an ambulance unless his throat swelled up so much his breathing was restricted. Jaskier had known that, but he hadn’t been able to talk, just spit disgusting pus at the man’s feet. The man hadn’t looked at all phased - why should he? His work was probably much more disgusting - and handed Geralt an off-brand EpiPen, just in case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s probably strep,” he told Geralt, and handed Jaskier a wad of tissues, into which the musician spat again. “I can’t do anything for that, he needs antibiotics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt made a face. “Has Rinde built a free clinic since the last time I was here?” he asked. They certainly didn’t have the hundreds of orens needed for an urgent care visit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The paramedic sighed and shook his head. “No,” he said. “There might be one in White Bridge, but the closest I know of is Novigrad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Novigrad?” Jaskier rasped, his voice barely audible. That was a full twenty hours’ drive away - with Jaskier in the best of condition, and money to put gas in the truck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He can’t sleep outside like this,” Geralt said, a frown pulling his mouth down. “Is there anyone else? He just needs something to get him through a few days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The paramedic hesitated. “Well...” he said. “There’s someone here for a photoshoot. I hear she’s well-connected. She might take payment in a favor or two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt blew out a breath, and his frowned softened. “That we can work with,” he said. “Thanks, Chireadan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And give him a saltwater gargle, for Melitele’s sake,” the paramedic - Chireadan - said, as Jaskier spat into the tissues again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Jaskier could speak, he would have said that that gargle did more harm than good, bringing stinging, burning pain and a whole rush of rather disgusting fluids with it. And now he couldn’t speak the slightest bit, so as he recognized more and more of Yennefer’s crew as they approached, he couldn’t even tell Geralt to turn around and put him back in Roach, Novigrad would be just fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” he tried, pointing emphatically at Yennefer and shaking his head. “Mm!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I know, we’re almost there,” Geralt said absently. He’d scooped Jaskier up like a child when the fever had spiked, making him lose his balance and swoon against his friend. He wasn’t looking at Jaskier, just his hand, as they headed straight for Yennefer through her mingling entourage, a strange enough sight that her hangers-on just let them through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm-mm!” Jaskier tried one more time, before the effort left him limp. Then they were in front of Yennefer, and he turned his face away, not wanting her to see him like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well!” Yennefer drawled, a smirk in her voice. “Julian Pankratz. This certainly isn’t how I expected us to meet. Although hiring some muscle to bring you in in a swoon, that seems dramatic enough for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t hire me,” Geralt said, and the rumble of his deep voice was so comforting that Jaskier tried to burrow closer to it, despite the uncomfortable heat between them. “He’s a friend of mine, and he needs help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Yennefer said archly. “That looks like the kind of help that needs a doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt hummed, low in his chest. “No insurance,” he said. “Someone said you could help. I’ll do whatever you like, if you can find him some antibiotics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yennefer’s voice sounded from closer as she approached. “I’m sure we can find something for such a strapping man to do,” she purred. Jaskier smelled her signature perfume, lilac and gooseberries, as she ran her hand down Geralt’s arm, stopping at Jaskier’s own head tucked into the crook. She felt for his forehead, and despite himself he turned into her touch, those cool, elegant fingers feeling heavenly on his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My, he is burning up,” Yennefer said, sounding a bit startled. “I have a hotel room, come on. We’ll put him there while I make some calls.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A wave of fever and pain hit Jaskier then, and he turned in Geralt’s arms to spit a fresh gush of pus at both their feet. He watched as Yennefer’s designer black stilettos jumped back reflexively, although Geralt didn’t bother to move his worn-out old work boots. They were both speaking again, but it was difficult to make out, and Jaskier closed his eyes. Everything else faded to impressions. He vaguely registered being laid on cool sheets that quickly turned hot; struggling to swallow a few gulps of water; gloved hands opening his mouth and pressing down his tongue; a pinch at his elbow; someone’s hand stroking his sweaty hair and keeping him still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From time to time he thought he heard voices, but he didn’t try to surface unless they were familiar. He thought he heard Yennefer telling someone it was time to pay up, and then Geralt’s voice rumbling in assent. Then, some time later, Yennefer again, telling him he was more trouble than he was worth sometimes. He turned his head toward her then, and his lids fluttered, and her hand, still blessedly cool, came over his eyes as she told him to hush. He did, and slept again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He half-woke when he heard Geralt again, having a hushed argument with Yennefer. “- wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t want a shoot in a historic ruin that doesn’t allow them,” Geralt was rumbling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was my favor, Geralt, and getting you out of security’s detainment before the police came was another. So you still owe me,” Yennefer hissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I do,” Geralt said. “And what would the lady like from me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never call me that again,” Yennefer said, a certain heat in her voice. “I’m Yennefer of fucking Vengerburg.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that your favor, Yennefer of fucking Vengerburg?” Geralt asked, his voice low, almost seductive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Yennefer said, and there was the sound of urgent, rough kissing. Clothes rustled, and the two of them panted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this my favor, then?” Geralt asked, his voice rough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I think I’ll let you owe me one, to be called in in the future,” Yennefer answered, half-panting. “This is just for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just making sure,” Geralt said, and there was the sound of kissing again, and a low moan. Jaskier turned over, trying to escape the sounds, and they stopped, as if the two of them had forgotten he was there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Yennefer said. “My new room is next door.” There were footsteps, but only one set. “Geralt?” Yennefer asked, further away this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to leave him alone,” Geralt said. “He’s been so sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yennefer sighed. “Come on, then,” she said, and her footsteps went a different way. “We’ll leave the bathroom door open, and you can make me forget we could have been on a bed.” Then there was the sound of running water, and thankfully, Jaskier fell back into a deep sleep before he heard anything more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he woke again, someone he didn’t know was pulling an IV - an IV? - out of his arm, and Yennefer of fucking Vengerburg was at the foot of his bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re well on your road to recovery, Julian, so I’d say it’s about time for you to leave,” she said. “And I expect you to remember my generosity.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier made a face as he sat up - he smelled like sickness and medicine - and looked around for Geralt. “Don’t worry, Yennefer,” he said. “I would very much like to leave your presence and never enter it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yennefer laughed. “Be on your way, then,” she said. “Your friend is outside already. Feel free to bring him along again. He’s quite diverting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier bared his teeth at her. “Gladly,” he said. “And of course, my next composition will be dedicated solely to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yennefer laughed, and threw a bag that rattled at him. “I look forward to it,” she said, and swept out of the room. Jaskier hustled out as quickly as he could, finding Geralt waiting with the truck idling. (He refused to call it Geralt’s ridiculous nickname.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you were into exhibitionism,” he said tartly. Geralt just grunted and shifted the truck into gear, but there was a tinge of pink across his ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier, meanwhile, opened his laptop and set his phone into tethering mode. He hoped they were headed for a truck stop, because he could certainly use a shower, but he had a new song to work on. Yennefer wanted something dedicated to her? Well, she’d certainly get it.<br/>
</span>
</p>
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